


Changing Priorities

by tillyenna



Series: Darling - I'd bare my neck to You [6]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe D/s, Dom/sub, M/M, Punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 12:18:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tillyenna/pseuds/tillyenna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during 'Smashing Stereotypes' this is Five Times Clint wasn’t punished, and one time he was.</p>
<p>Warnings: Although there are no graphic depictions of violence, violence does occour in this fic. Unbeta'd</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changing Priorities

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaybeSchrodinger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaybeSchrodinger/gifts).



> For @MaybeSchrodinger idek who you are, but here, have this story!
> 
> This is pre-avengers fic, so is set during ‘Smashing Stereotypes’, it’s probably worth reading that to understand some of the references made to ‘scores’ and the like in this.
> 
> Warnings: Although there are no graphic depictions of violence, violence does occour in this fic. Unbeta'd
> 
> Please note: although I try and make this as realistic as possible a.) it’s set in another universe and b.) as it turns out, I’m REALLY BAD at writing Doms... there’s a reason I’m not in charge, and Sir has NO interest in reading my fanfic to vet it... so um yeah, don’t use this as an example if you wanna go out there and Dominate someone, find something written by an ACTUAL Dom, a good one...

5.  
It had been a complete milk run, and Phil was sat up next to the pilot, leaving Clint and the other three specialists in the team to chat and relax – they’d had a successful missing and were still clearly riding on the high. He heard a burst of raucous laughter from where they were sat and then one of the team spluttered “Tell the boss Barton, you’ve gotta tell Agent Coulson – someone bet me that he never laughs, and I’m pretty sure that will crack him, it could crack anyone.”

Phil stuck his head into the main cabin of the plane, raising an eyebrow at them all.

“Nah” Clint smirked as he sat back in his seat, “Phil wouldn’t get the reference… he’s too oooold.” He drew out the vowel sounds on the last word before sticking his tongue out at Coulson.

A stunned silence swept across the team, although no-one knew about Phil and Clint’s relationship, they all accepted the fact that Clint was a registered sub, without a Dom, and as such his handler was responsible for punishing him when he was rude or disobedient.

Phil shook his head at Clint and went back to his seat in the cockpit.

“You are going to get it when we get back to base.” He heard whispered

“Nah,” Clint sighed blithely, “Coulson’s cool.” He sniggered slightly at his own pun.

“Yeah, but you were just outright rude to the guy.” The eldest of the three specialists spoke up for the first time, Phil mentally scanned his file – a lower Dominance score than the other two, but still in a high percentile for the regular population, SHIELD agents usually were.

He relented and spoke, not calling back to them, but ensuring they’d be able to hear him, “If I chose to punish Specialist Barton every time he spoke out of turn, we’d never have the time to send him on missions.”

Again, silence reigned through the plane before the three specialists, and Clint, all burst out laughing.

4.  
Phil walked into the gym, looking out of place in his suit where all the other agents were dressed in sports kit. He spotted Clint easily, at one of the punching bags. “Barton” he called out, walking over. “Lunch.” The tone made it clear that he was given a direct order for Clint to go to lunch.

“Nope.” Clint said, inbetween punches, “I’m busy Sir. I’ll go later.”

The few people around them stared in shock for a moment, waiting for Phil’s response.

“Come to lunch now Barton,” Phil sighed, “You have a meeting later.”

“Probably going to miss that Sir.”

Phil paused, and then took a moment to really look at Clint, to see the lines of tension across the muscles of his back, the set of his jaw – something had made him really angry, and usually Clint only got that angry when someone had been rude or cruel about his submissive status. Ideally, what he wanted to do was gather Clint up in his arms, tell him that everything was ok, that he was better than everyone else regardless, but that wasn’t a possibility, stood there in the middle of the gym. Instead he nodded slowly, “Do try and remember to eat Specialist,” he said softly, before turning on his heel to leave, ignoring the stunned gazes he got as he left.

3.  
As the Christmas party was drawing to a close, Phil knew exactly where Clint was. He’d been keeping a close eye on him all evening. However, as the lights started to come up during the DJ’s last song, everyone else in the room could see exactly where Clint was too – which was wrapped around one of the newer handlers, a gorgeous blonde who seemed to stun agents into following her orders purely by her good looks alone, dancing sensuously to the slow beat of the music.

All eyes turned to Phil, who was leant against one of the walls, arms across his chest – Christmas parties weren’t his thing, but Nick insisted on him attending. He knew everyone would expect him to suddenly berate Clint, to publicly humiliate him to make up for the supposed humiliation that Clint was doing to him right now. But in Phil’s opinion, they were dancing, and he knew Clint loved to dance, and more than that, he knew that Clint probably wanted to cause a stir by dancing with the most beautiful woman in the room.

So Phil in his own mind, hand no need, or want, to punish Clint for what he was doing, but he could tell the way people were looking at him, preparing to judge him, because if he just waited until Clint was done, he could lose a lot of respect among the more idiotic junior agents – which whilst he personally had no desire for their respect, it did make going on missions a lot easier.

Hardly anyone spoke as Phil Coulson crossed the room, heading for the door, he paused at the cloakroom, and handed over tickets for his own, and Clint’s coats. Once they were safely in his possession, not needing to look up to know that despite the fact the song was almost over, Clint would still be wrapped around Agent Rice. He lifted his arm, and pushed the cuff of his jacket sleeve back slightly to reveal the edge of his watch face, as if he was checking the time. Not called ‘Hawkeye’ for nothing, Clint noticed the signal immediately, and within seconds was by Phil’s side.

“Hometime Clint.” Phil said softly, handing over his coat. He paused, noticing the bewildered Agent Rice stood in the middle of the room, suddenly abandoned, “Although a gentleman would have thanked the lady for her company.” He rolled his eyes as Clint spun on his heel and flipped a salute at Agent Rice, his trade-mark cocky grin plastered across his face, before they headed out into the cold.

2.  
Clint was last to walk into the debrief – it was two days since their mission in Romania had ended, but only 12 hours since they’d been back in the country.

“Your report Agent Barton?” Maria Hill said curtly, “I notice it’s the only one missing from the pile – I had asked for them to be delivered one hour prior to this meeting.”

“Sorry,” Clint muttered, “No report.”

Maria turned to Phil, her eyes flicking towards Clint as if to say ‘what are you going to do about that?’

Phil paused for a moment, he could tell her how Clint hadn’t slept whilst in Romania, he’d been the one staying away to keep watch and make sure they got to their base safely in the transport vehicle, and he’d then been the one to fly the plane home, and how he’d got home and immediately sat down with a pen and paper and Phil had found him half an hour later with tears streaming down his face because he knew his spelling was all wrong and he was too dog-tired to do anything about it, and how at that point Phil had taken the pen and paper away from him, and tucked him into bed, and by all accounts he’d only just woken up. Instead he shrugged slightly at Maria, before glancing over at Clint and mouthing the words “Must Try Harder” with a twinkle in his eye that he knew Clint would see as the smile it truly was.

1.  
It was rare that Phil acted as a supervisor, but there were a batch of newer handlers leading missions, and the other senior agents were worked to the bone, so he’d agreed to go out on this one, particularly as it required Clint’s skillset, and everyone knew that setting Clint on a new handler was just cruel.

Their target was deep in conversation with their Agent on the ground, Clint from his nest up above was waiting for the shot, however the mark was clearly too savvy to allow the Agent to manoeuvre him, and however hard he tried he couldn’t get a shot that wouldn’t risk taking out their own Agent at the same time. “I’ve got no shot.” He called over the comms system. “Repeat: I cannot get a clear shot.”

“Hold your position” Agent Davis said sternly, “Wait for Agent King to give us a clear shot.”

Clint looked again at the situation, it was clear the conversation was rounding to a close, and he could tell that time was running short. “Um, no.” He said clearly over the comms.

“Hold your position Barton!” Davis shouted down the comms line, but Coulson could see that Barton was already scaling the outside of the building – he’d been stood at an open window on the top floor, now he was heading for the roof.

“He’s not responding.” Davis spun round to speak to Phil, “Agent Coulson, your specialist is disobeying a direct order.”

“Is he?” Phil kept his face carefully blank, watching as Clint swung himself onto the roof – the arrow was fired within second, flying through the air and skimming the top of Agent King’s head as it landed into the back of their mark, who had just turned to leave.

“Kill shot taken,” Clint called out over the comms, sounding a little out of breath.

“Kill confirmed.” Agent King spoke for the first time, the fear evident in his voice. “That was a little close for comfort Barton.”

“Sorry King,” Clint laughed, “Only shot I had.”

When the four of them were back in the control room together, Agent Davis exploded with rage. “You disobeyed a direct order Barton – that is completely unacceptable.”

“I made the kill.” Clint protested.

“I do not want to hear your bullshit!” The man screamed, his face turning purple with rage. He took a few breaths to calm himself, “Conveniently,” He said with a smile, “I do not have to wait until we get back to base to see you reprimanded for this – as your handler is here right now.” He turned to face Phil, “Agent Coulson.”

“Yes.” Phil nodded in agreement, “I agree, Clint needs to understand what he’s just done.” He turned to Clint, straightening his tie as he did so, “Good shot Barton.” He let the hint of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, “Well done.”

Agent Davis reeled back in shock, “That is irrelevant,” He spluttered, “That sub disobeyed a direct order.”

“That specialist,” Phil stressed the term, “improved upon your order. Took his initiative, and if he hadn’t we’d be looking at a failed mission right now.” He looked pointed at his fellow handler, “Please note, that I will be making good report of that fact in my write up of this mission.”

 

0.  
It was rare Clint was allowed out on missions without Phil there too – and when they carried his stretcher off the plane, Phil remembered why that was.

“What happened?” He asked curtly, desperately trying to keep his cool, trying to keep the mask on and not look around for someone to destroy – Clint was his, and he did not take people damaging his property well.

Clint giggled from where he lay on the stretcher – they’d given him gas and air, his leg was clearly hurt – whether it was a break, or just a bad sprain, only an x-ray would tell. “I saved a kitty.” He giggled again, grinning up at Phil, “Hey Boss.”

As soon as Sitwell stepped off the plane Phil grabbed him by the arm – every pair of eyes in the hanger bay was on them. “What the hell just happened Jasper?” Phil hissed at his friend, “Why is my boy hurt?”

Jasper held his hands up in defense, “I told him to get out of the building, that it was going to blow, and he refused.” He shook his head as he glanced over at Cilnt, “You know what he’s like for following orders. I was yelling at him to get out, and he didn’t until it was too late – he was out of the building when it blew, and we found him on the ground, a chunk of masonry had fallen on his leg.”

“And he disobeyed because?” Phil felt his anger rising, although this time not at Jasper.

“When we found him he was clutching a kitten – apparently it was inside the building and refusing to come down from a high shelf, and he didn’t want to leave it to die, so he climbed up to save it – which delayed him long enough that he got caught in the blast.”

Phil was genuinely shocked as he asked, “Let me get this straight, Specialist Barton put his own life at risk to save a cat.”

“Yes.” Jasper sighed, “But Phil, he…”

“Is going to pay.” Phil interrupted him, turning on his heel, “He is going to pay.”

\--

The next day Clint woke up alone in a hospital bed. That wasn’t strange, he’d woken up in the medical bay with an injury after a mission countless times before – what was strange was the lack of Phil Coulson – his handler was always at his side when he got hurt, but not this time. He was just looking around for the button to call a nurse, to ask where he was, when there was a soft knock on the door.

Jasper Sitwell entered cautiously, with a Dominance score of only 56% it surprised people that Jasper made a good handler – but that he did. “Hey Clint, good to see you awake. How’s the leg?”

“Where’s Phil?” It was rare that Clint called his handler by his first name, but he was worried.

“Only sprained I see,” Ignoring the question, Jasper took a look at the chart hanging off the end of Clint’s bed. And then, when he realised he was begin unfair, he said softly, “He’s pretty angry at you Clint.” At the pained look on Clint’s face, he added, “I’ll go and see if I can get him to come see you.”

By the time Phil appeared at his door, Clint was almost shaking with fear – a million different scenarios had run through his mind, each and every one of them ending with Phil leaving him. “Hey.” He said nervously. “I hear you’re pretty mad.”

“I am furious.” Phil clarified, keep his voice steady and even, sitting down on the chair beside Clint’s bed.

“Oh.” Clint couldn’t think of anything to say to that – just braced himself for what he knew was coming next.

“You are my property.” Phil said, his voice hard, “You belong to me. And I don’t appreciate people damaging my possesions unnecessarily.”

“I get hurt on missions all the time!” Clint protested.

“I said unecesserily.” Phil cut across him, his tone making it clear that he did not like Clint interjecting. “You getting hurt to save someone’s life – that I will accept. But a cat Clint? A Cat?”

“It was a very cute cat?” Clint ventured hesitantly, knowing that wasn’t going to cut it with Phil.

“Not good enough.” Phil said simply, shaking his head.

For a moment, they sat there in silence, until Clint couldn’t hold it in anymore and blurted out, “Are you going to leave me?”

“Leave you?” Phil sounded genuinely shocked, “No Clint, I’m not leaving you.” He reached out to touch Cilnt for the first time, placing his hand on top of where Clint’s lay on the bed. Carefully, he caught Clint’s eye, looking straight into his gaze as he repeated softly, “I’m not going to leave you Clint.”

Clint had almost relaxed, before Phil spoke again, making him tense all over again.

“But you do need to be punished.”

\--

 

A week later Clint hobbled into Phil’s office for the scheduled meeting – he was still on crutches, but finding he could get around without them. It had been a tense week, Phil had been nothing but caring the entire time, making sure he rested his leg as much as possible, fetching him ice packs to reduce the swelling. But even as Phil had looked after him, he couldn’t help but feel the threat of his punishment hanging over him.

“Take a seat Clint,” Phil said evenly, nodding at the chair on the opposite side of his desk.

Usually Clint would sprawl on the sofa, but nervously, he perched on the edge of the seat Phil had indicated.

“Do you understand why I need to punish you Clint?” Phil asked, no beating around the bush for him, he went straight into it.

“Because I was bad?” Clint asked hesitantly.

“Because I want you to learn this lesson Clint.” Phil said softly, “I know you understand that you were bad, but can you honestly tell me you won’t put yourself in danger for no reason again?”

“It wasn’t no reason!” Clint protested.

Phil sighed “Which is why I need to punish you,” he said sadly, “Because you are still valuing the life of a kitten, over the life of my most precious possession.”

“I’m not important…” Clint started to say before Phil interrupted him

“It’s not about what you think Clint – what your opinion of yourself is, whether you value a kitten as more important than you, the point is that I do not.” He’d raised his voice, although he was fighting hard not to shout, he needed to get his point across. “You are being punished as a memory aid, so in future, when you think it might be a good idea to put yourself in harm’s way, and you think I might not approve of your reason for doing it – you will remember this punishment and you will think again!”

Clint couldn’t help but cower slightly back in his seat, he’d never known Phil to be this cross, eventually he managed to breathe out the question that had been plaguing him, “What will my punishment be?”

Phil had known the question was coming, “I was going to ask for your input on that,” he said, calmer than he had been before, straightening his shirt slightly where he’d ruffled it in his rage. He knew Clint had suffered badly from abusive Dominants in the past, and had no desire to add to that, or even to remind him of it. “I want you to remember your punishment Clint, I’m certainly don’t want you to enjoy it, that would defy the purpose – but I want you to think hard about what it will be, because I don’t want it to be something that will overly upset you. I want you to understand that ultimately, I am doing this for your good, not mine, and certainly not for my pleasure.” He waited for a moment while that information sunk in, and when Clint nodded to show he’d heard, he continued, “It can be anything from writing lines, to a full scale public whipping, removal of your range rights.”

“No.” Clint said suddenly, “No, not writing, and not taking away my bow.” His fingers clenched and unclenched with fear, “I need my bow.”

“Ok,” Phil said calmly, he knew that most of the negative treatment Clint had experienced over his sad lifetime had been psychological and emotional, “Something more physical then?”

Slowly, nervously, Clint nodded, and then shook his head fast, “No, I don’t want you to whip me like some animal.” His eyes flashed angrily at Phil.

“You’re not an animal Clint,” Phil said softly, knowing that the anger wasn’t truly directed at him, “You are a human being, and I will only ever treat you as such.”

“I don’t have a problem with you hitting me,” Clint admitted, “I’d just like to know you’re man enough to look me in the eye as you do it.”

“Oh I am,” Phil couldn’t help but smile softly. He thought for a moment and then said, “How about we go a few rounds in the gym, with one difference – you don’t fight back?”

“Is that a punishment?”

“I think it’s one way of teaching you who’s boss in this relationship – and the bruises should last long enough that you have time to reflect on what you’ve done.”

Clint thought for a moment before nodding, “Ok,” he said softly, “Ok.”

\--

It was two weeks later, when Clint was fully healed from his leg injury that they finally ended up in the gym. They had talked for a long time about the best place for Clint’s punishment to occur, whether at home in privacy, or at the gym at work – where in theory anyone could see. Clint had opted for the public arena of SHIELD, it made him feel safer to know that there were other people watching.

It was late in the evening, after they’d finished up for the day – and Phil Coulson out of a suit turned heads anyway. He was still wearing the trousers from his suit, but he’d removed the jacket and tie – they would only get in the way, and his shoes as they were not allowed on the sparring mats, Clint was dressed simply in regulation grey shorts and a regulation black t-shirt. Whispers spread through the room as they headed towards one of the sparring mats, Clint slightly ahead of Phil, head bowed, staring at the floor.

Clint could feel all eyes on him, it made him feel sick as he walked to one of the empty mats and knelt down in the middle of it, he hated doing something so submissive as kneeling, in front of other agents too – but he didn’t hate it as much as he hated Phil being disappointed in him, so he sucked up every ounce of courage he had and did it.

“Right then,” Phil crouched down facing Clint, tugging the legs of his trousers slightly higher to allow him the room to crouch. He tucked one hand under Clint’s chin and tilted his face up until Clint met his eyes. “Tell me why we’re here.”

“So I can learn my lesson.” Clint said softly.

“And what lesson is that?” Phil’s eyes didn’t waver from him for a second.

“To value your property. To accept that your priorities are different from mine.”

“Good.” Phil let his thumb softly stroke Clint’s cheekbone before he stood. “Deep breath Clint.” He instructed, and then, waiting until Clint had sucked a lungful of air in, and softly breathed it out, he began.

The other agents in the gym late that night stood and watched in shock, abandoning their own exercises. Phil Coulson was one of the best hand-to-hand fighters SHIELD had, so to see him, laying into Clint, and Hawkeye not even responding, just flinching and reeling and letting the blows rain down, was incomprehensible.

Phil ignored them all, ignored the staring, the gasps of horror, even the one shout of ‘For God’s sake let him up’, he focused only on Clint.

At first, Clint couldn’t stand it, knowing they were there, watching him, probably laughing at him, but after a while he couldn’t think about that, it took too much focus to deal with the pain, and in the end, he could only see Phil.

He’d known Clint long enough to tell when he slipped under, to that strange place submissives go, that Phil couldn’t even begin to comprehend, and that was when he stopped, crouching down once more in front of Clint. “Who is your priority Clint?” He asked.

“You Sir.” Clint’s voice was cracked as he answered, and his eyes were glazed over even as he stared up at Phil.

“And who is my priority Clint?” Phil asked, his hands on Clint’s biceps, steading the man as he swayed.

“Me Sir.”

“And who does that mean you have to fucking well look after on missions Clint?” Phil asked with half a snarl.

“Me Sir.” It almost came out as a sob, Clint found his eyes refocusing on Phil and Phil alone, “Me Sir, I’m sorry Sir.”

“Good.” Ignoring the bystanders watching Phil wrapped his arms around Clint, it wasn’t that unusual for a Dominant to be affectionate with a submissive they’d just punished, regardless of their relationship. “I’ve got you Clint.” He whispered softly in Clint’s ear. “Let’s go home.”


End file.
